


Please Come

by Attenia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Out of Character Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 14:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18412403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: When Thranduil dies, Legolas sends a desperate plea for Aragorn to come to Greenwood. Aragorn knows that he's the only one who can comfort his friend, the only one Legolas will truly show his pain to. OOC Legolas.





	Please Come

The hooves of his horse thundered beneath him as Aragorn barely slowed when he passed through the gates of the Greenwood palace. The guards must have been told to expect him, because they parted for him without question.  
His urgency to get to Legolas didn’t abate now that he was so close. Aragorn cringed as he remembered the five words that had made up the elf’s letter to him. Ada is dead. Please come.  
Aragorn couldn’t even imagine what his friend was going through. Not only losing his father, but having to hold his pain inside. Legolas would never let anyone see him break down, no one but Aragorn. He wouldn’t even do so on his own. To lose his father and not allow himself the simple release of crying or even showing his grief… Aragorn spurred his horse faster.  
He all but ran into the throne room. Legolas was sitting on his father’s throne, a crown of branches on his head. His face was blank, and it would have been convincing had his hands not been shaking slightly.  
“Out!” Aragorn snapped, glaring at the various guards and councilors in the room. “Everyone out!”  
After one look at him, they all left. Legolas got up from the throne and stumbled toward him. Aragorn broke into a run and just managed to catch the elf as his legs gave out.  
Tears sprang to Legolas’ eyes. “E-Estel…”  
“I am here, mellon nin. You can let go, now.”  
The elf finally did. Legolas sobbed and clung to his friend, his body shaking with the power of his grief. Aragorn guided his friend’s head to his shoulder and sank down to sit on the floor, never letting go of Legolas.  
“I – Ada – he –” But Legolas couldn’t speak. He gasped in air only to have it choked out of him by violent sobs. Aragorn gathered his friend into his lap, hugging him tightly. Legolas clutched him just as tightly, crying desperately into his shoulder.  
Aragorn rocked the prince – no, the king – slowly, murmuring soft words of comfort. “You’ll be ok, gwador... You don’t need to hold it in anymore... I will not leave you…”  
They stayed that way for several hours, and eventually, Legolas quieted somewhat. He blinked up at the human with red eyes. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered.  
“I will always come when you call me, mellon nin.” Aragorn could see that the prince was exhausted. “When was the last time you slept?”  
Legolas shrugged. “Don’t remember,” he mumbled. “I… Ada – I couldn’t –”  
“I understand. I came as quickly as I could. I am sorry you had to hold back your grief due to my tardiness.”  
The elf let out a strangled laugh. “You got here faster than I’d ever hoped. It is not your fault, gwador, that I cannot grieve as others do.”  
“I am just glad that with me, you can.”  
Legolas nodded his agreement. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you, Estel.”  
Aragorn kissed his brow in response. He felt the same way about the elf. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”  
He knew all the seldom-used passages in the palace after his many visits, and was able to get Legolas to his chambers without anyone seeing their king’s disheveled appearance. Once there, he called for food and hot water for a bath, both of which were delivered quickly.  
“Go on and bathe,” Aragorn encouraged him. “You will feel better once you do.”  
Legolas did indeed look slightly less haggard after he bathed, and though he protested violently to food, Aragorn was able to force a bowl of stew into him.  
“Now come, into bed with you.”  
“I am no elfling to be ordered to bed, Estel. I’m the – the king of Greenwood.” Legolas’ lip trembled slightly. “They crowned me the day he died.”  
“King or not, you are no healer, and I am. Now get into bed before you collapse and don’t give me any trouble about it.” Aragorn was pleased to see Legolas obey, and pulled up a chair to sit at his bedside. The elf gave him a pleading look, one that he wouldn’t put into words, but Aragorn understood.  
“Move over.” He slipped into bed next to his friend, holding Legolas like the elf had held him when he was still a child and in need of comfort. Despite his clear exhaustion, Legolas was as tense as a drawn bowstring. “Do you want to talk about it?” Aragorn asked quietly.  
“I don’t know.” Legolas was silent for a few minutes as he thought. “Yes… yes, I think I do.” Aragorn waited patiently as the elf drew a shuddering breath before beginning.  
“It was my fault,” he said quietly. “You know Ada doesn’t… didn’t often come into direct combat. He heard that I was badly injured, though, and of course, he came. By the time he got to me, in the heart of spider territory, the worst had passed. The healers had patched up the most severe damage after the message to him had been sent. We headed home…”  
Aragorn started running his hands up and down Legolas’ back, trying to help him relax, sure the elf would hurt himself if he kept holding his muscles clenched this tightly.  
“We were attacked by spiders… Ada was bitten. They weren’t clean bites. They tore through his skin and arteries. He bled out in my arms. There was nothing the healers could do. We brought him here and buried him.”  
Legolas had slipped back into that dead voice Aragorn knew he used when he wanted to put on a strong mask.  
“It is me,” he murmured, pulling the elf’s head once again to his shoulder. “You can grieve, now, Legolas.”  
He could tell that Legolas heeded his words when the elf started shaking again, slowly at first, but then harder as he was once again wracked with sobs. Aragorn felt a renewed wetness on the shoulder of his tunic as Legolas wept harshly, bitterly, the sounds heartbreaking to hear.  
“It wasn’t your fault, mellon nin,” he murmured.  
“I-It – was.”  
“No, it was not. You did everything you could.”  
“If I h-hadn’t been – injured, then – A-Ada wouldn’t – wouldn’t h-have –”  
The rest his words were lost as Legolas gave up on speech, his body curling in on itself as he was wracked with waves of misery. Aragorn held his friend close, wishing he could do more. He would have time later to convince Legolas of his innocence. Now, he could only do his best to soothe his friend’s grief.  
“It – it h-hurts, Estel,” the elf gasped. “I m-miss – h-him.”  
“I know, gwador. My heart weeps with yours. Know that whatever the future brings, I am here for you.”  
His words were cold comfort in the face of the loss of a father, but they seemed to help, at least a little. Legolas’ hands were fisted in his tunic, and Aragorn realized that the elf’s nails were digging into his palms when faint red stains started to appear.  
“Careful, mellon nin,” he murmured, firmly prying Legolas’ hands open. He pulled the elf’s arms around him, so that they were embracing each other. Legolas’ nails started digging into his back, but Aragorn didn’t care. He would take any injury for his friend rather than see the elf hurt.  
Legolas drew in a shuddering breath and accidentally inhaled some of his own saliva when caught mid-breath by another brutal sob that caused his whole body to spasm. Aragorn thumped him on the back as his friend gasped and coughed, panic at the feeling of not being able to breathe causing him to gasp too quickly.  
“Slow down, mellon nin. Cough. Yes, that’s right, keep coughing. There you are.”  
Legolas relaxed slightly as his breathing returned to normal, albeit a bit raggedly. “I’m s-sorry – Estel.”  
“Do not be sorry, not for this. Be sorry for your Ada’s passing, but never for your grief over him. You honor him, Legolas.”  
Aragorn wished he could do more to ease his friend’s pain, but he could do nothing but hold him. Legolas cried for many hours, letting out all the tears that he’d had to hold in ever since his father’s death. When he finally quieted, Aragorn expected him to fall asleep, but the elf was still far too tense.  
“You need rest, mellon nin,” he prompted. He rubbed Legolas’ back, trying to ease some of the tension there, but Legolas stiffened in pain at the attempt at even a gentle massage. Clearly, he wasn’t up to having his tense muscles soothed right now, unable to relax into the touch. Aragorn would deal with that later. For now, he’d settle for soothing his friend’s mind.  
He urged Legolas to turn around so that the elf’s back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around his friend and Legolas tucked his head into Aragorn’s arm, his breathing finally evening out.  
Aragorn started to sing. It was a lullaby that Legolas had sang to him many times as a child, when he was plagued by nightmares. His voice wasn’t nearly as beautiful as his friend’s, but Legolas seemed calmed by the melody, nonetheless. It took a while, but eventually, he drifted off. His eyes were closed rather than open, which told Aragorn that Legolas had been more exhausted than he’d realized.  
He gently rocked his friend, glad that Legolas trusted him enough to show his pain, the pain he would show to no one else. There would be trying days ahead of them, and he didn’t delude himself that Legolas’ grief was spent, but he knew that they would get through it together, as they always did.  
Legolas twitched in sleep, his brow furrowed. “Estel…” he mumbled, his head turning this way and that, as though searching.  
Aragorn cupped his friend’s cheek with one hand. “I am here, mellon nin. I will always come when you call me. Never doubt that.”  
At these words, Legolas sighed slightly and drifted into a deeper, less troubled sleep. Aragorn continued the gentle rocking, humming the lullaby under his breath and pressing a kiss to his friend’s pale forehead. “I will always come for you,” he vowed once more. “Always.”


End file.
